Gadget.  Oh, Gadget.  Why did Quimby put up with Gadget?

Perhaps it was because, in spite of all his flaws, Gadget got results.  He always managed to find a way to complete any mission he was given, even if his methods seemed a little hazy.  That couldn’t be denied.  The better question was why hadn’t Quimby devised a better way to give these assignments to the inspector?  The information provided to Gadget was highly confidential.  If this intel ended up in the wrong hands, who knew what would happen?  Quimby had often wondered if personally delivering these self-destructing messages was the best course of action, but without spending a fortune on new technology, it seemed like this was as good as it was going to get.  He lamented this as he hid in the closet of Gadget’s bedroom, haunted by the sounds on the other side of the door.

Dr. Claw had plans to steal Stonehenge and hold it for ransom, so Gadget needed to get to England as soon as possible.  However, it seemed the man had a… “prior engagement.”  Quimby admittedly realized it was late on a Friday night, but he hadn’t expected to run into anything like this.  After all, Gadget loved to proclaim that he was always on duty.  The chief had taken that at face value.  If he called the Top-Secret Gadget Phone, he was certain that the inspector would have dropped everything to answer, but he wouldn’t do that to the poor man.  He had no desire to make things more awkward than they were already.  No, he would just have to deal with this.

Everything had happened so fast.  As soon as Quimby found his hiding place and readied himself to call Gadget, the bedroom door had swung open, then slammed shut.  The chief’s eyes widened when he heard the soft thump of someone being tossed upon a mattress accompanied by a feminine voice literally squealing in delight paired with Gadget’s goofy laughter.  He could h— should have made the call before things progressed, but the chief found himself paralyzed.  By the time he got his bearings, it was too late.  His subordinate was deep in the throes of passion.

Quimby closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.  This was not how he wanted to start his weekend, hiding amidst identical coats and outfits while listening to the rustling of clothing, squeaks of the mattress, and grunts.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, Gadget’s poor attempt at dirty talk was really cringe-inducing.

“G-Goodness, doll…  You’re a naughty one, huh?”  The inspector let out a breathy chuckle.  “Oh, I’d hate to have to arrest a pretty young lady like you!”

Quimby held in a groan as Gadget’s… uh, “company” giggled in response.  Wait.  Who was Gadget’s company?  Surely it wasn’t…  No, who was he kidding?  It had to be her.  That rather charming MAD lady had made it no secret that Gadget alone was the only reason she sold Claw out.  They had been inseparable since.  In all his years of knowing him, Quimby didn’t think Gadget had it in him, let alone with someone that far out of his league.  It made him wonder if she had a thing for authority figures, if a beautiful young woman like her was not only in bed with him, but reacting so positively to such cornball lines.

The chief’s curiosity got the better of him, and peeked through the slats to catch a glimpse at the scene, deluding himself by thinking that it was only to see if he could confirm his suspicion.  He had braced himself to see the inspector in a state of undress, but that wasn’t entirely the case.  Gadget was still wearing his hat and coat.  Somehow, seeing the coat open and draped over the bodies of both Gadget and his partner was more obscene than whatever he had anticipated.  That, and the fact that the poor woman was held down by six arms!  Four mechanical arms had come out of his hat, with two pinning her arms to the bed and another two holding her legs up behind her knees.  The arms on his body gripped her hips and held her in place as he… ahem.  You get the picture.  This was not what the department had in mind when they made the decision to use taxpayer’s money to turn this man into a crime-solving machine.  Of course, the man had his own free will and autonomy.  Quimby just never believed he’d see the gadgets used in such creative ways.

Despite his hopeless one-liners, Gadget yet again appeared to be getting results.  He was coaxing moans out of the woman that rivaled those heard in dirty tapes— o-or so Quimby had heard.  Though he was trying his hardest to remain collected and professional, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm all over from the situation.  Was it him, or was this closet getting hot?  He shifted his position, which only brought attention to the swelling in his trousers.

Oh, no.  No, no, no.  This couldn’t be happening.

It was one thing to accidentally catch a glimpse at this sort of scene.  It was another thing entirely to get aroused by it.  This was his subordinate, for crying out loud!  His subordinate and a seemingly nice young lady.  Quimby screwed his eyes shut as that thought sent another jolt straight to his groin.  He was no longer watching, but he could not close his ears.  Those wanton moans were growing more frequent in volume.  Though he tried to will himself against it, he caved and palmed at himself to try to relieve some pressure.  Stars entered his vision from just that brief bit of contact.  His free hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the groan that threatened to give him away.  He was certain that Gadget was far too busy to notice such a sound over all the noise he was making, but that didn’t mean he wanted to get caught like this.  Stonehenge would just have to wait.